


Missing Clothes and Stolen Kisses

by hypochondriacandatrashmouth



Category: Ant-Man (Movies), MCU, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Drinking, He's adorable, I love Scott, M/M, Sam's oblivious for a moment, Scott's a dork, This is grossly cute imo, and Sam's great, idk what else to put, stolen clothes, this ship needs more content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:08:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17769977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypochondriacandatrashmouth/pseuds/hypochondriacandatrashmouth
Summary: After everything they went through, Scott Lang and Sam Wilson began to grow closer. Their friendship turned into best friendship, no matter how hard Sam tries to deny it and claims Scott is annoying.Months have passed, and Sam has begun to notice his clothes are beginning to disappear and whenever he and Scott hang out and get drinks, they always end up sharing kisses.





	Missing Clothes and Stolen Kisses

Scott came to Sam's room, backpack strapped to his back, and knocked on the door. "Sam?" he called out. "I've got the drinks. Ready for movie night?"

Sam opened the door and smiled at the man. "Yup. Just give me a sec." With that, he turned back around and hurried to his dresser and grabbed out a pyjama shirt and pulled it on.

He walked back to the open door and grinned down at the older man. "Let's go."

***

Sam had absolutely no idea when this started, but he noticed it now.

His clothes are disappearing. How did he know this? Well, for starters, they were his clothes. And secondly, his favourite sweatshirt was missing. He searched all through his drawers and closet and the sweatshirt was nowhere to be found. And he and Scott had been drinking a lot through the night lately, and those always ended with the two kissing...

 _Dammit!_ he thought to himself as he closed his closet door. Nowhere. Where could his hoodie be? Perhaps Natasha had taken it? She always stole the other Avengers' clothes because, as she claims, they are more comfortable than her own. But she had been on a mission for the past few days; she couldn't have been able to, then.

Who could have taken it?

He sighed and gave up for now, but he _will_ find out who stole it. He went through the rest of his clothes, trying to find another comfy shirt to wear today. And as he hunted through the closet, he noticed a numerous amount of his clothes were missing. His Falcon shirt (given to him as a joke-Christmas present from Scott Lang), one of his graphic hoodies, and quite a few T-shirts were gone.

"What in the hell?" he questioned aloud. He would ask the others about it when he sees them later.

He took a random shirt out and changed into it, along with some jeans. He grabbed a jacket and threw it on, pulled on a pair of socks and shoes, and headed out. He was going to go for a walk before heading back to the Avengers Tower to question the others.

***

When he returned to the compound, he texted the group chat that Tony Stark had set up (at Bruce Banner's request), telling everyone to come to the lounge for an "important meeting."

He went and stood in the lounge, in front of the TV, and crossed his arms. He waited a few minutes and when no one walked in he sent another message to the chat. In all capital letters.

That certainly got their attention, because after that everyone hurried into the room. Well, everyone who was there.

"What's so important you had to wake me up on my day off?" Tony whined as he flopped down on the couch.

"I'll explain," Sam assured.

Then Scott hurried into the room and plopped down on the floor in front of Bruce, who was seated on the couch beside Tony.

"Scott? What are you doing here? I thought you went home last night?" Sam said, a little confused by Scott's sudden reappearance at the tower.

"Oh. I was going to," Scott started. "But it was really really really late and I also didn't want to be alone at home – since, y'know, it's Cassie's time with Maggie and Paxton – so I stayed here last night instead of going back home."

Sam nodded, then looked to the group as a whole. "My clothes are disappearing," he announced. The group of Avengers tried not to laugh. Well, all except for Scott. He seemed to stiffen, as though he were nervous.

"Your clothes... are... disappearing?" Clint repeated between laughs. "Did I hear you correctly, or are my hearing aids screwing up again?"

"You all heard me right," Sam confirmed. "My clothes are going missing. As if someone stole them."

No one noticed how that seemed to make Scott even more nervous. He was hugging his knees closer to his chest, arms wrapped very tight around his legs.

"I can ask Friday to check security footage outside of your room, see if there's been any suspicious activity," Tony offered.

That was when Scott cut in: "Or we can not do that. We can just take turns keeping watch outside Sam's room."

"We? Why're you saying we?" Tony asked. "And why can't we just check security?"

"Just... seems like too much work. Too tiring to stare at a video that might not show anything," Scott explained. He was hiding something. Anyone could tell, what with the ex-con's tone and worrisome expression.

Wanda was the one to comment on it. "Scott," she said in a calm yet serious tone of voice. "Do you know something about what happened?"

Scott shook his head quickly. He hated lying, but he was too embarrassed to admit to what he knew. He knew why Sam's clothes were going missing and he knew who was taking them. He knew everything about the situation.

"Scott," Wanda said in an even softer voice. "What aren't you telling us?"

"His heart rate has accelerated," Vision stated. "He is showing signs of fear."

"I'm fine. It's just..." Scott trailed off and took a few deep breaths to get his nerves under control. "It's nothing."

"Scott," Sam said this time. "Did you see anything suspicious last night?" And Scott shook his head again.

"I saw nothing."

Sam nodded again, then he looked at Tony. "I actually like Scott's idea. If we just scan the footage, it might not show us anything. For all we know, the person stealing my stuff could've come through the window inside the room."

Tony pouted and crossed his arms across his chest and slouched down in the couch.

***

Early into the night, Scott walked down the hall, backpack on his back again. He stopped and peeked around the corner, seeing who was currently on guard outside Sam's door. He raised an eyebrow in both confusion and relief when he didn't see anyone at first, then Vision walked up to the door and took position. Scott huffed in annoyance. Not that he was annoyed at Vision! It's just, Vision doesn't really understand human needs or anything right now. The team is still working with him on that.

Scott reached back and felt his bag for the bottles of beer he had been planning on sharing with Sam and nodded to himself when he felt them. He took a deep breath and rounded the corner and made his way toward the room. Then he stopped in front of Vision and looked up at him.

"Hey, Vision," he said. "Mind if I uh, go in? You see, Sam and I have plans and we can't exactly go through with those plans unless I'm in the room."

"Do these plans involve that bag you have been bringing to Mr. Wilson's room these past few weeks?" Vision questioned.

"I mean, yeah," Scott said, raising his shoulders a bit.

"And, if you don't mind my asking, you do not plan on stealing any of Mr. Wilson's wardrobe, correct?"

"Whaaat?" Scott said, voice slightly pitched as he began to shake his head. "Why would I wanna do that?"

"I detect a raised heart beat," Vision stated. "Are you lying, Mr. Lang?"

"No," Scott lied again. "No. I- I hate lying. Lying makes me feel dirty and rotten." Then he pushed past Vision. "I need to get in there. Excuse me."

He opened the door and slid inside and closed it back.

"What're you doing here, TicTac?"

Scott looked to see Sam sitting on the bed, in just pyjama pants. He stared at the man's bare chest.

"TicTac?" Sam repeated. "Scott? You okay, man?"

Scott blinked and looked at Sam – not his chest. "Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm uh... I'm fine. I wanted to hang out with you. I couldn't sleep. I mean, I might be able to sleep but I'm just not tired at the moment." Then he shrugged off his backpack and held it up with a grin. "I brought drinks."

Sam sighed and scooted over on the bed and pat the spot beside him. "Come on up, TicTac."

And so Scott did.

Not long later, Scott was very drunk; his conscious was still working properly, but his body would not obey him. He began to speak even though he was actually enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Sam?" he said.

"Hmm?" was the Falcon's response.

"I uh..." Scott stumbled drunkenly on his words. He could not believe he was doing this in his drunken state.

He turned so his whole body was facing the taller man. He nibbled on his lip. "Can you ah... can you turn? So I'm not looking at the side of your head, I mean," he slurred.

"I guess..." Sam said, sort of confused. He turned to face the shorter man.

Scott simply stared at Sam for a long, awkward moment before the latter said:

"You were saying–"

He was cut off by Scott's mouth suddenly on his own. His eyes widened in surprise. Then they fluttered closed and he leaned into the kiss, returning the action.

Then he realized what he was doing and pulled away quickly. "Scott, no. You're– you're drunk!" he said, and Scott whined. "We can't do this. Not right now."

"But we can when I'm sober?" Scott asked (er, slurred).

Sam shook his head. "Scott, no. Why?"

"Because. I- I- I..." Scott looked down. _Why?_ he asked himself over and over. He had been asking himself that since he had met the Falcon the first time. This stupid crush on the man was why Hope had broken things off with him, but she did not blame him. They were still friends, like he is with Maggie and Paxton!

But, he was terrified of trying to start anything with Sam. It was too much pressure on him, honestly, to try and keep things right. And his anxiety does not help at all with that. He was afraid he would ruin things, the way he had ruined things for himself and Maggie, and himself and Hope. What if he _did_ ruin things for him and Sam if they ever did happen?

He looked down, eyes closed tightly and he was trying not to cry. "I'm sorry..." he whispered.

"Scott, it's fine," Sam assured, placing a gentle hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Just don't do it again. Okay?"

Scott nodded, a bit depressed.

***

Neither man knows when they dozed off, but Scott awoke with a migraine at 02:00 A.M. He looked over and saw Sam sound asleep beside him. He suddenly felt guilty, remembering what his drunken self had done just hours ago. He hated himself for it.

He carefully got out of the bed and fumbled around for his bag. Once he found it, he made his way over to the closet— just like last time they drank the night away. He rifled through the different shirts and jackets and hoodies. He glanced behind himself at the sleeping Falcon, and quickly grabbed a zip-up jacket. He stuffed it into his bag, then left.

He peeked out the door, and saw Vision still there. Of course, droids (or whatever Vision was, Scott was never told specifics) don't need sleep. He closed the door slightly to collect his nerves, make sure the bag was zipped up, and that he did not give off any suspicious vibes. He was an ex-burglar! He should not be this nervous.

Besides, he's the world's greatest grandma; he can do anything!

Scott calmed himself and opened the door and made his way out. He walked quickly past Vision with a rushed, "Later, Vision."

***

Later, when everyone was awake and someone was cooking breakfast, Scott came shuffling tiredly into the kitchen. He was still half asleep and, when changing, had grabbed whatever clothes he could reach to change into.

He had also thrown up from drinking so much the night before. So it was probably a good thing he had changed.

The hoodie he had on was a bit big on his frame. And it was a dark red. Not Iron Man-red, no; Falcon-red was more the shade it was. And if one were to look at the tag on the inside of it, they would see that it boldly states the hoodie belongs to **SAM**. Scott did not care. It was comfy and he had a thing for Sam. Stealing Sam's belongings was his way of flirting.

Scott yawned and made his way between a groggy Tony Stark and a brooding Natasha Romanoff—who had returned from her mission—both with mugs of coffee in hand.

"Morning," Scott greeted as he took a glass and a mug. He got himself some water, for the hangover, and started to make tea. He was not really one for coffee.

Natasha acknowledged him with a nod while Tony did not say anything. He was looking over some plans on a tablet.

Natasha glanced up quickly after she had nodded and smirked a little. "That jacket looks familiar," she said.

Scott's heart rate increased and he did not turn around. He did not want her to see the guilty look on his face. "Does it?" he asked.

"Looks like one of Sam's. There's a rip in the exact same place on the waistband as his," Natasha observed. "But I must be mistaken..." She took a sip of her coffee, peering over the rim at him.

She was guilt-tripping him.

Tony was paying attention now. He had shut off his tablet and turned around, leaning against the counter and watching Scott's stiff movements.

Scott whipped around, eyes wide. "Don't tell him. Please please please don't tell him!" he pleaded.

"And why not?" Tony asked. He crossed his arms over his chest after setting down his mug.

"Because– because," Scott stuttered. He did not know how to answer the question without outing himself. Ah, screw it. They would probably guess it anyway. "I kinda sorta..."

"Like him?" Natasha guessed. "Like, you have feelings for him?"

Scott nodded. "I didn't know what else to do. And his clothes are really comfortable."

"Hey, I steal the guys' clothes all of the time," Natasha said.

"Is that where my AC/DC shirts keep going?" Tony asked. Natasha waved him off.

"Are you planning on telling him?" Natasha asked Scott, who shrugged in reply.

"If you don't want to," Natasha offered, "I'll tell him it's me."

"Tell who what?"

The three turned and saw Sam Wilson standing in the doorway.

"Tell you that I'm the one—" Natasha started.

"No! It's uh...." Scott cut her off, but did not continue.

"Tony? What are they talking about?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows at the Iron Man.

Scott looked at Tony with wide eyes. He's gonna tell him the truth, he just knew it.

"Scott's jacket," Tony replied simply, then took a long drink if his coffee, finishing off the cup, then went to pour himself some more. Scott actually —accidentally—let out a loud sigh of relief.

That just caused Sam to stare at Scott more. Scott felt nervous all over again. _It was a bad idea to wake up this morning_ , he was thinking to himself.

Sam noticed the hoodie. It was his, he realized. And then it all clicked together in his mind: There was only one professional thief in the building, Scott always brought his backpack whenever they shared drinks, and the clothes went missing every morning after a night of drinking. It was Scott!

He would just play along until Scott's guilt was too much.

So, he walked over and grabbed a cup from a cabinet and poured himself some of the tea Scott had made.

"I like it," Sam said, commenting on the jacket.

"Oh uh, thanks. It's actually–" Scott started, then his eyes widened and he looked up at Sam, bewildered. "You know?" he exclaimed.

"Know what?" Sam replied cheekily.

"How'd you find out it was me?" Scott asked.

"So you admit it's been you this whole time!" Sam exclaimed triumphantly.

"Dammit! I owe Wanda thirty bucks," a voice came from the vents. Then there was the sound of scuffling.

Scott looked confused. "Clint and Wanda made a bet?"

"We all did," Tony said. "I owe Wanda thirty bucks, too."

"What were these bets on?" Sam asked, equally confused as Scott.

"When Lang would admit he's the one whose been taking your shit," Tony explained. "Or if you would confront him about it."

"And Scott just admitted to it," Natasha said with a smile. "I didn't make any bets." Then she excused herself from the room and dragged Tony along behind her.

"How long have you—" Scott began, but Sam cut him off.

"I just pieced it together when I walked in. I recognize my clothes," Sam admitted. "Plus, that looks a bit big on you."

"I'm sorry," Scott whispered. "I just... I was too embarrassed to tell you that I like you and, well, my idiot instincts told me to do this."

"How long have you been taking them?" Sam asked.

"Since after the RAFT," the Ant-Man replied. Sam nodded.

After a long moment, he smiled a little. "You like me?"

Scott nodded.

"I like you too..."

Scott's eyes snapped up to stare at the taller man. "You do?" And Sam nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "Since the first time we met. When you beat my ass at fighting. I wasn't mad, just embarrassed and in awe."

"Really?" Scott exclaimed. "You were in awe of me?"

"Yeah! Why wouldn't I?" Sam asked, grinning down at him. "You're adorable and you didn't follow any SuperHero protocols, like revealing your actual name."

"And I shoved my crotch in your face..." Scott recalled, embarrassed.

"That was just a bonus," Sam teased.

Scott blushed a bright red. "Oh my God," he stuttered.

Sam moved closer to the Ant-Man. "Can I do something?" he asked. Scott could only nod; he was worried he'd just continue stuttering if he tried to actually speak.

Sam cupped Scott's cheeks in his hands for a long moment before he leaned down and kissed him softly. Scott's eyes widened and he brought a hand up to grip the sleeve of Sam's shirt, then he melted into the kiss.

After a moment, Sam pulled back and smiled at him. "You've been trying to do that with me every night we drink. You're welcome."

Then he turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving a stunned—yet grinning stupidly—Scott Lang.

***

That night before Scott could make a run for Sam's room, Sam appeared at Scott's door.

"Hey, TicTac," he said.

Scott whipped around. He still had on the sweatshirt from earlier. "Oh, hey Sam."

"I thought that since we figured out what's been going on with my closet we could hang out in here tonight."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure."

Scott plopped down on his bed and looked over at Sam, who made his way over and flopped down beside him.

"Wanna watch a movie and drink a few beers?" Sam asked, glancing up at the other man.

"Sure."

***

Sam awoke in the middle of the night feeling a weight on his chest. He glanced down and saw a sleeping Scott Lang. He smiled to himself and carded his fingers through the smaller man's hair.

This is gaze drifted over to the closet...

***

Scott Lang awoke the next morning and smiled. He reached across the bed and felt no body beside him. He frowned and sat up and looked over. Sam was gone. In his place, on the pillow, was a note. He picked it up and read it:

 _TicTac,_  
_This is payback, asshole._  
 _Check the closet._  
 _-Your new boyfriend_

Scott scrambled out of the bed and ran over to the closet. He threw open the door and—

"SAM WILSON! WHAT THE HELL?"

And from down the hall, Sam laughed loudly and shouted back, "Love you, Lang!"


End file.
